Collected Fiction (1940-1963)

by William P. McGivern

  Now they continued single file, straight across the courtyard at right angles to the platform, until all four were inside the courtyard.

  “Ready!” Curtis said grimly.

  An instant later, the tanks all wheeled sharply, swinging directly toward the platform, lined four across, and started bearing toward them.

  “Give it sharply, Juan!” Curtis shouted.

  JUAN’S gun chattered to life, sweeping a hail of fire against the steel sheaths that covered their approaching enemy. It was impossible to tell if any of his fire was penetrating the chinks and apertures through which the tank guns peered. They kept coming forward.

  “They’re not wasting fire until they get closer,” Curtis declared. “Which is just what I’d hoped for!”

  Curtis bent swiftly, brought forth a grenade from the crate. He pulled the pin, counted briefly, and then hurled it out from the platform at the approaching line of tanks.

  It exploded squarely between the center pair of tanks, which had been less than five feet apart from one another. The tank on the right of the center was knocked up and over on its side, while the one on the left center was blasted completely around by the force of the explosion until it was facing in the opposite direction.

  But the tanks on each extreme end were both still coming doggedly down on them now, and suddenly there was a sharp exclamation of elation from Juan.

  Curtis wheeled to see the tank on the left end of the line veered wildly off at a sharp right angle. One of Juan’s machine gun bursts had penetrated a chink and caught the driver!

  And then Curtis had the second grenade in his hand, and Juan had left the machine gun to get a grenade himself. Both pulled pins at the same time, and both hurled their grenades with grim accuracy at the remaining tank that still bore down on them from the right.

  Juan’s grenade caught the tank flush on the tower, and Allan’s hit directly below the stomach of the metal monster. With tremendous force they exploded simultaneously.

  And when the haze and smoke and dust had cleared, the tank lay completely over on its back, tractors still moving, like some gigantic beetle!

  But the left center tank, the one that had been knocked around in the opposite direction by the explosive force of Allan’s first grenade, was now turned about and starting toward them again!

  And as Juan leaped back to his gun position, and Curtis tore another grenade from the crate at his feet, the fore gun of that tank blasted forth!

  There was a shrill whining as the shell, misdirected, went above their heads and back into the jungle.

  JUAN was firing again with the machine gun, trying to work toward another lucky demolition of the approaching monster. But the hail of his bullets ricochetting off the steel belly of the tank told what little effect his fire was having.

  Curtis pulled pin again on the grenade he held, just as the second tank gun blazed forth at their position. The second shot was closer, blasting into the wall high above and behind them, showering the platform with a rain of stone and dirt.

  Then Curtis hurled again, his grenade exploding directly beneath the belly of the oncoming tank. It went over and back in a geyser of flame and dirt and noise.

  The tank Juan had gotten with his lucky through-chink hail of machine gun fire, now having replaced the driver, was limping back away from the courtyard platform, heading toward the wall gate.

  Juan rose, leaving his gun position, and stepped to the grenade crate. He was grinning widely.

  “I stop that beetle from get away, amigo!” Juan exclaimed, seizing a grenade.

  Curtis started to protest that the distance was all of a hundred yards, that the accuracy of such a throw, not to mention the distance, was next to impossible. And then he saw the ripple of ebon shoulder muscle through Juan’s magnificent torso, and clamped his jaw shut.

  Juan pulled the pin with his white, even, tough teeth.

  Then he drew back his massive arm, counting briefly, his huge chest leaning far out over their buttresses of boulders. He grunted, hurling the grenade with every last atom of his superb strength.

  And even as the grenade sailed high across the courtyard, straight toward the tank making for the wall gate, the staccato chatter of machine gun fire burst forth from the side of the disabled tank lying half-over some fifty yards from their platform.

  Juan’s mouth opened in swift pain as the bullets ripped across his massive chest. Then his white teeth were flashing against his ebon face, belying the pain in his dark eyes. He’d exposed himself as far too vulnerable a target.

  Juan slumped down behind the boulder buttresses on the platform, just as his grenade landed beneath the caterpillars of the tank heading for the wall gate. The explosion was violent, definite, as the tank bounced crazily over on its tower and stopped.

  Then Curtis was beside him, holding his massive handsome black head in his arms, looking sickly, grimly, at the blood that burbled from Juan’s pierced chest.

  “It . . . is . . . over . . . for Juan, amigo,” the massive negro gasped.

  JO WAS hovering solicitously beside Curtis and his fallen comrade. Her lovely face was white, her eyes welled with unshed tears.

  Then the thunderous clamor of many tank motors took up anew outside the walled courtyard. And the girl and the white man, and the dying Juan all knew that another tank attack was starting, and that there would be many more than four to face in this fresh onslaught.

  “They come in . . . greater . . . numbers, amigo,” Juan said weakly.

  Curtis said nothing. His own eyes were as misted as Jo’s.

  “Peru,” Juan mumbled. “Not fall . . . under heel . . . conqueror.” He coughed, blood reddening his white, strong teeth. “Great God Sacha . . . come aid . . . in hour . . . Peru’s need . . . as always . . . before.”[2]

  Juan’s brown eyes were glazing, staring almost sightlessly up at Curtis and the girl. A reddish foam flecked the corners of his handsome mouth.

  “Sacha . . . Great God Snake . . . Great Daughter of Sacha . . . Paswulg neh . . . como . . . salendar istu zes,” Juan mumbled thickly.

  Jo looked at Curtis.

  “What does he say?”

  Curtis shook his head, bewilderedly.

  “I’m not certain, It’s an ancient incantation, Inca origin. Prayer to the daughter of the snake god, Sacha.”

  The noise of the rumbling tanks was very much louder now, and Curtis looked up sharply. At any instant they would rumble through the wall gate.

  And suddenly there was another noise. Thunder rumbled menacingly in the distance, and the sky seemed to take a darker tint. The jungle creatures chattered nervously above all this.

  “Sacha,” Juan gasped, “Rusmach sensamol . . . inshani yegreda zes.” Again he coughed, weakly.

  Against the darkening sky there came the sudden flashing flame of lightning!

  And then the thunder broke forth like a million rolling kettle drums furiously crashing cadence one against the other. Huge drops of rain began to splatter down, while the red sky became dusty-amber, then gray-black.

  “Sacha!” Juan gasped, “eresuch zes istu! Klabon . . . urinti . . . moll.”

  Again the lighting flashed across the gray black sky. The jungle creatures were silent now, and there was no sound against the growing storm save the rumbling snarl of the tank motors approaching the wall gate entrance to the courtyard.

  Juan’s eyes suddenly lidded, his head rolled limply. Curtis looked up at Jo.

  Juan gasped one more sentence before his huge body went completely limp in Curtis’ arms.

  “Sacha, wunphy zes constuiduo!”

  Curtis lowered him to the platform.

  “He’s dead,” he told Jo.

  AND then the thunder and the lightning crackled and spat above them in the darkened heavens, while through the wall gate crawled the first ominous line of tanks!

  The rain was increasing from scattered huge drops to a growing tattoo that rose in intensity with every passing instant. Curtis lifted Juan�
�s body swiftly, but gently, in his arms, moving it back against the wall at the rear of the platform.

  And as he dashed back to Jo’s side the rain was suddenly a drenching, driving deluge of jungle fury, while the sky opened in flashing flame and thundered wildly.

  And the tanks, fifteen of them, were in the courtyard, while others still crawled in!

  The courtyard was rapidly becoming a vast sea of mud and water as the torrent continued to pour down from the maddened skies. The first of the tanks wheeled to open fire with its fore gun on the platform.

  The sound of the gun was lost in the thunder above them, but its flame spat through the darkness of the storm, and its effect was told in the terrible crashing devastation it wrought on the huge wall directly behind their position on the platform.

  Curtis threw his arm about Jo’s waist, hurling her to the side as the shell smashed into the wall behind them. And then the tanks were driving through the sea of mud in the courtyard, rushing straight at the platform.

  Curtis glanced at the crate of grenades and realized the utter futility of such an effort at resistance. Their only chance now lay in a desperate dash through the rain and mud and darkness.

  It was at that moment, when Curtis debated swiftly their next action, that Jo, half turned to glance at the devastation wrought on the platform wall, screamed shrilly, horribly.

  Curtis turned, glancing swiftly at the gaping rent in the wall, and then his jaw fell slack, while horror filled his eyes.

  An incredibly huge snake, a coiling, undulating monster at least five feet thick and forty yards long, was writhing from the gaping rent in the platform wall!

  And it was Curtis who first saw the girl atop the creature’s back, the girl who rode the giant reptile and brandished a lance in one hand as her body swayed just behind its dipping, weaving head. It was Curtis who was first to see the girl, and scream in hoarse horror.

  “Good God!”

  And then he was shielding Jo with his body, backing hard against the far end of the platform wall while the giant reptile and its weird human rider slithered forth from the gap in the wall.

  “Sacha!” Curtis murmured in horrified conviction. “Sacha the Snake God, and the daughter of Sacha!”

  “Allan, Allan,” Jo was whispering in terror, “Juan was calling, summoning, that . . . that monster and its mistress!”

  Allan Curtis gripped the girl’s arm tightly. White-faced, he nodded . . .

  CHAPTER X

  Sacha

  THE scene was like something from the black depths of a horrible nightmare. The roaring growl of the thunder had intensified, and the jagged forks of lightning slashed the boiling heavens with eye-searing brilliance as the immense reptile slithered through the shattered wall.

  Stone crunched to powder under the mighty body of the monstrous beast as it slid ponderously over the smashed debris.

  As the great snake’s angrily weaving head flowed through the demolished aperture, Curtis crouched against their barricade, protecting Jo with his body.

  Logical thought or reasoning was impossible.

  This monstrous apparition was impossible, beyond the wildest flights of imagination, but still it existed before his eyes.

  Through the pelting rain he could see the figure of the girl astride the snake’s back. Her head was thrown back exultantly and her rain-darkened hair streamed gloriously behind her, like a triumphant banner.

  He had only one brief glimpse of her savagely flashing eyes, her sharply chiseled features, before she was carried from his range of vision as the mighty reptile slithered massively down the broken steps leading to the courtyard.

  The incredibly huge body of the snake flowed past them, writhing with mighty undulations that shook the very foundations of the stout stone barricade.

  Curtis scrambled to the side of the barricade where they had placed their machine gun and peered into the courtyard—where the front line of German tanks was advancing inexorably.

  Even through the torrential rain he could see the oncoming tanks, squat, invincible harbingers of destruction. There were eight of them proceeding in formation toward the barricade.

  The mighty head of the snake was weaving and swooping thirty feet in the air, and its vast coiling length was slithering toward the foremost tank.

  Curtis felt his heart hammering sickeningly in his body. His hands clenched until he could feel them numbing.

  This incredible scene was like a page torn from a madman’s view of Dante’s inferno. Its unbelievable import was physically staggering.

  THE thunder broke over the courtyard like the crashing of giant sledges, and in the wild illumination furnished by the blazing lightning, Curtis saw the massively coiling body of the snake loop slowly but inevitably about the nearest tank.

  The advance of the tank was instantly halted.

  The coils of the snake lashed another loop about the halted tank and lifted it clear of the ground.

  The forward guns of the tank swung helplessly back and forth like the feelers of a giant bug. A futile burst spat from the muzzles of the gun, but the tank was inexorably lifted—five—ten—a dozen feet from the soggy, muddy ground.

  Then the thick coils tightened with the irresistible power of a mighty vise. Dozens of feet above the suspended tank, the daughter of the snake god flung her head back and screamed a strange, chilling command into the teeth of the maddened storm.

  Curtis heard a rending, cracking sound, that carried to him, even above the banshee-howl of the wind. Through the drenching murky rain he saw the sides of the tank crumple under the tremendous pressure of the great snake’s coiled body. The steel armor of the tank cracked inexorably, and as the mighty coils continued to tighten, the tank crumpled into a twisted, shattered mass of wreckage.

  A horrible, nerve-chilling cry came from the twisted, crushed tank as the coils of the snake tightened with one final undulation.

  Curtis felt a shudder pass through him.

  From the tangled wreckage of the tank a human figure fell to the ground. Or rather something that had been a human figure. The mangled, broken thing that lay beneath the suspended tank had only the faintest resemblance to a human body.

  The crushed wreckage of the tank was raised high now by the fantastically immense snake, and at a signal from the imperious girl, the coiled body of the snake whipped the tangled wreckage to the ground with a shuddering crash.

  The crushed tank lay on its side, a broken, useless thing. The snake slithered away from it and moved with sinuous speed toward the other tanks.

  THREE of the oncoming tanks had halted and wheeled about to face the monstrous snake. It was obvious that they had witnessed the destruction of the first tank.

  A rattling burst of fire broke from the tower guns of the three tanks, and Curtis saw that concerted fire pour into the flank of the mighty snake.

  Its head was weaving high in the air, keeping the girl out of the range of fire, but its own immense body was completely unprotected before the murderous blast from the three tanks.

  Still the immense creature moved forward. There was no hesitation in its deliberate advance. Instead the fire of the three tanks seemed to infuriate it to a pitch of savage, devastating rage.

  With lashing speed its tail looped about the first of the tanks, jerking it into the air. With a sweeping movement it swung the tank in a wide arc and dashed it into the side of the second with incredible force.

  The massive steel-armored vehicle shattered completely the tank it struck, knocking it onto its side. The tower door of the tank opened and three men spilled out. In the murky darkness it was impossible to see their faces, but the congealing horror that gripped them was evident from their frozen helplessness before the spectacle that met their eyes.

  They did not attempt to run. One of them sank to his knees, his hands clasped over his eyes, but the other stood in motionless terror as the mighty head of the snake passed over them, high in the air.

  The tail of the snake, as thick as
a tree trunk, whipped about the three men. Their arms and legs threshed with frantic futility as they were lifted into the air. The coils of the snake tightened once—swiftly and inevitably—and the arms and legs of the German tank crew ceased to move.

  Curtis felt Jo trembling against him. Her face was frozen in rigid horror. With a low moan she buried her face against his chest.

  Curtis held her tightly with one arm, and with the other he swung the machine gun about to cover the courtyard.

  THE remaining tanks were wheeling about and lumbering desperately for the court entrance. The mighty length of the snake coiled swiftly and slithered after them. High in the air, the slim figure of the daughter of the snake god was vaguely visible through the downpour. Lance held high she screamed into the gale, her glorious hair streaming wildly behind her. She was, at once, the most thrilling, the most savage sight Curtis had ever witnessed.

  As the tanks escaped through the court entrance, Curtis saw a small contingent of Germans pour into sight from a wall gate on the opposite side of the enclosure.

  Curtis saw that the three leading German soldiers were dragging a heavy, anti-tank gun between them. In one of the flashes of lightning he saw that they were hastily setting it for action, with its heavy blunt muzzle directed at the vulnerable flank of the huge snake.

  Swiftly, Curtis swung the machine gun around to cover the small band of Germans. With savage speed he jammed both firing buttons down, sprayed a lethal burst at the German contingent.

  His first blast was off, but as he swung the gun into more accurate position, three of the Germans staggered and fell to the muddy ground.

  The others flung themselves prone as they located the direction of Curtis’ fire.

  Curtis fired desperately at their position, but he couldn’t tell if his raking fire was hitting its objective.

  A belching burst from the anti-tank gun suddenly sounded, and Curtis saw a flash of flame spear through the muggy darkness.